


The Owlery

by RPGgirl514



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship, Fluff, Gen, Gen Work, Nerdiness, Owls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:33:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25648888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RPGgirl514/pseuds/RPGgirl514
Summary: September, 1984. Charlie Weasley is lonely and homesick.
Relationships: Nymphadora Tonks & Charlie Weasley
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	The Owlery

Charlie Weasley had spent the whole summer pestering Bill for every detail of Hogwarts, so he would know what to expect when he finally, finally arrived. At first, he was overwhelmed by how new and exciting everything was: the Hogwarts Express, where he could buy sweets from the trolley with his pocket money, and Mum wasn’t there to force him to eat the dry sandwiches she’d packed for him first; the view of the castle as the enormous, hairy gamekeeper herded the first years across the lake in a fleet of little boats; the Sorting Hat whispering in his ear about how brave he was, before placing him in Gryffindor with his big brother. Charlie couldn’t stop grinning, even as he gorged himself on roast chicken and mashed potatoes.

But that was three weeks ago already, and the lustre had dimmed somewhat. He’d already gotten lost on his way to class twice, both due to Peeves, and one memorable Saturday he’d spent two hours stranded on a moving staircase that couldn’t make up its mind. His stomach still roiled queasily when he thought about it. None of the other first-year Gryffindor boys seemed keen on being friends with him, and Bill was too busy being cool with his third-year friends to bother with him. And Charlie couldn’t even try out for the Quidditch team until next year.

All this meant Charlie was lonely and homesick. Hogwarts wasn’t supposed to be like this, he thought, as he trudged up the stairs to the Owlery on a bleary Sunday morning. He liked the castle like this: quiet and hopeful, when no one else was awake but the owls and the house elves.

Most of the owls were just settling in for their daytime slumber when Charlie pushed open the creaky door. A few turned their solemn eyes on him and ruffled their wings indifferently. He folded his legs under him, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Filch had been in to tidy, perhaps, or maybe some delinquent student had received detention, as the feathers, droppings, and pellets littering the floor were minimal.

The open framed window through which the owls swooped in and out showed the sky, gradually lightening from indigo to cerulean, and let in the chill of the early morning. September was still mild, but at this hour Charlie was glad he’d worn his favorite navy blue jumper, threadbare as it was. He pulled the sleeves down to cover his hands and drew his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. He let his gaze wander over the birds, letting their soft hoots wash over him, filling him with the peace he craved. Hundreds of avians lived here, perched on the rails that crossed the length of the room. Great horned owls, with tufted ears; snowy owls with pure white feathers; tiny elf owls; eagle owls with orange eyes as brilliant as Charlie’s hair; barn owls with almond-shaped eyes and faces like a mime’s mask; even two enormous fish owls and a small huddle of homing pigeons, their iridescent heads shimmering purple and green.

Charlie was lost in thought when his haven of comfort was disturbed most spectacularly as the door banged open, rattling on its hinges. A gangly girl with shocking pink hair tripped over the threshold and sprawled on the floor, looking dazed. Charlie jumped to his feet.

“Are you alright?” he asked, walking over to her.

“No,” she groaned, sitting up, “but I will be.”

“What did you trip over?” Charlie asked, glancing at the doorway.

“My own two feet, probably,” she said. Charlie offered his hand (he’d been brought up a gentleman, after all) and helped her up. Her hand was very small and warm. Charlie let go quickly.

“I’m Tonks,” she said, grinning at him.

“Charlie Weasley,” he said.

She hissed suddenly and looked down. There was a hole in the knee of her jeans, and a dark smudge of blood stained the ripped denim. “Bugger,” she swore, and it sounded so silly coming from such a small girl that Charlie laughed.

“Here,” he said, fishing a handkerchief from his shirt pocket. “It’s clean, I promise.”

“How chivalrous,” she said with a smirk. “Must be a Gryffindor.” Charlie felt a pleased flush starting under his collar and stuffed his hands in his pockets awkwardly.

“What House are you in, then?”

“Hufflepuff, like my dad,” Tonks said, dabbing at her knee.

“At least it’s not Slytherin.”

Tonks frowned at him. “My mum was in Slytherin and she’s the best. They’re not all bad, you know.”

“Oh,” Charlie said, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“What were you doing up here, anyway?” Tonks said.

“Oh, just . . . thinking,” Charlie said.

“About owls?”

“And other things.”

“Like what?”

“You’re a bit nosy, aren’t you?”

“I could be.” Tonks grinned at him and scrunched up her face. A beat later and her nose was lengthening, stretching away from her face in grotesque exaggeration.

Charlie yelped and jumped backwards. Tonks’ nose shrank back to its usual size as she wheezed with laughter. “How did you do that?”

“I’m a Metamorphmagus,” she said. In a blink her hair popped into tight turquoise ringlets, framing her face. “I was born one.”

“That’s so . . . cool,” Charlie said. “I wish I was.”

“You look fine just as you are,” she said.

“Yeah, I guess,” he said. “I just wish I had something like that, that made me cool.” He slid down the wall to sit on the floor again.

Tonks flopped down next to him, all knobby knees and no grace. “My dad always says if you can be anything, you should be yourself. So who are you, Charlie Weasley?”

“I’m nobody,” he said, and that was the heart of it. “Nobody that anyone would want to hang out with, anyway.”

“Come on, that can’t be true. Ow!” Tonks said, trying to bump his shoulder in a friendly gesture and banging her elbow in the process. “What are you interested in?”

“I dunno,” Charlie said thoughtfully. “I like animals, I guess. And Quidditch.”

“Maybe you ought to find other people who like animals and Quidditch, then,” Tonks said, rubbing her elbow.

“Everyone likes animals and Quidditch,” Charlie said, exasperated.

“Not everyone likes animals enough to get up at the crack of dawn and spend their Sunday morning in the Owlery, though.”

“You’re here, and I don’t see a letter or parcel,” he said pointedly.

“I like to dissect the owl pellets,” she said, unabashed. “We learned about them at the Muggle primary school I went to before Hogwarts. It looks like someone’s tidied up, though.”

Charlie stares at her. “You’re very strange,” he said finally. Then, “What’s in an owl pellet?”

“All sorts of things,” Tonks said gleefully, rocking back and forth with her hands on her knees. “Bones and teeth, mostly, and fur and claws and feathers. Come see.” She got to her feet and crossed the Owlery to a grey lump on the floor, roughly the size of a goose egg. She took out her wand and prodded it. The two first-years squatted down to inspect it more closely.

Nestled amidst the matted down were several bones, no bigger than matchsticks, a tiny curved rib cage, and a rodent skull with prominent yellow front teeth. As Tonks continued to dig the tip of her wand into the mass, more bits emerged: loose teeth and claws, a second partial skull, smaller than the first, and a few pebbles.

“Hmmm,” Tonks said. She pointed to the first skull. “That one’s probably a vole or a small rat. This one,” she indicated the partial skull, “is definitely a shrew. It’s flat on top, see? Less prominent eye sockets.”

“You can tell all that by the bones?” Charlie said, impressed.

“Sure,” Tonks said. “It’s like solving a puzzle. That’s what I like about it.”

Charlie looked up at the birds above them, even more in awe of them than he had been before. They were beautiful, yes, but they were still predators. Their talons and beaks seemed sharper to him now. They were not simply the tools of wizards, but living beings who deserved respect.

Tonks stood up rather suddenly. “Are you hungry?”

“After poking through owl vomit?” Charlie said, eyes twinkling. He shrugged. “I could eat.”

“We could get some bacon sarnies from the Great Hall and go out to the lake. I know how to get the giant squid to come to the surface.”

Charlie, who had heard much about the giant squid but had not yet seen it, eagerly followed Tonks out of the Owlery. Maybe Hogwarts wasn’t so bad after all.


End file.
